Creed
by cowlicklesschick
Summary: Perhaps he shouldn't apply the laws of physics to this. But it's all he knows how to do. If he lets himself be that happy, then he's putting himself in danger for hurt beyond his comprehension. And so, like all things he has trouble comprehending, Walter pushes it away. Unexpectedly, his father is the one who pulls him back in.
There isn't a lot of extra room in Walter's loft. Most of his living quarters are taken up with the bedroom, kitchen and living area, along with his desk in one corner.

The other side is crammed with industrial shelves, littered with old hard drives and stacks of notes on various research projects, all of it collecting dust.

A year ago, all of that data storage was being used in his research for Megan. Now, it's become what he supposes normal people would call a shrine. He never spends much time in that area of his loft, but he does understand why the space reminds him so much of his sister.

Sometimes Walter doesn't want to remember. He has to squeeze his eyes shut, press his face into his pillow at night to block the images of Megan's graying skin, her rattling last breaths, how cold her hand had felt in those first moments after she was gone, even though his brain knew it was too soon for her body to drop that much in temperature.

Other things, though…he clings to _those_ memories with all of the focus and concentration he can muster.

Things like how he'd wanted to laugh that Christmas Eve morning at the beach, when she kept stuffing her face with her cheeseburger and talking around it. She'd looked like a chipmunk, grease dripping down her chin and hands, but her eyes had looked so alive that he couldn't really care that much.

Or the time he had come home from Bosnia, to find his box of talismans on his desk, and a string of decorative lights on his neon sign. His sister, staring up at him outside Paige's car and refusing to let _him_ refuse to feel, demanding that he admit to caring about people, and loving him all the more for it.

One of his favorite memories is the first time he went to see her, after finding out about her and Sylvester. His friend had been a nervous wreck, but Megan had just grinned in that impish way she had, and held her new boyfriend's hand for the entire two hour visit. Seeing her like that, happier than he ever had before, made him almost breathless with the joy and the pain, mixing strangely in his chest.

He finds it odd that the memory is just as powerful, though Paige would probably call it human.

That sensation…the intensity of _feeling_ that much, it's something he's grown more used to. It still scares him. But now that he's aware that yes, he does have emotions and yes, he's capable of having very strong ones – he just needs to figure out what to do with them.

Of course, that's where Paige comes in.

He would never assume her to be callous or unfeeling, but somehow he thinks Paige was glad when he finally admitted to grieving for his sister. It was never as if Paige was happy to see him cry, it was more that Paige was happy that he was dealing with his emotions instead of pretending they weren't there at all.

Walter's learned the hard way what crippling sorrow feels like – a weight pressing on your chest until it feels like you can't breathe, an ache deep in your bones that makes rolling out of bed seem like a herculean feat. He's dealt with it, he's wept and mourned and he's doing much better, all to the relief of the team.

The other end of the emotional spectrum, though, terrifies him.

To experience a _joy_ of that magnitude…well. Walter has no idea what that's like. He's content, he's happy and satisfied with his life, but to have one thing that is so incredible it surpasses _every other_ good thing is a feeling that he doubts he'll ever have.

He strongly suspects Paige would be sad if she heard him say that.

But it's better that way – it hurt so much when he fell in his grief already, how much more if he falls to that depth, but starts off higher than before?

Perhaps he shouldn't apply the laws of physics to this. But it's all he knows how to do.

If he lets himself be that happy, then he's putting himself in danger for hurt beyond his comprehension. And so, like all things he has trouble comprehending, Walter pushes it away.

Unexpectedly, his father is the one who pulls him back in.

It's Megan's birthday – thankfully, there aren't any cases for the team, allowing Sylvester to take off work and Walter to spend a quiet day tinkering in the garage. Paige was there, as was Ralph, but Toby and Happy were mostly in and out all day.

Around lunchtime, he gets a Skype call from the tablet he sent home with his parents. Paige takes one look his startled expression, and immediately she grabs Ralph and heads out to get them all some lunch – and says they'll be back in an hour or so.

He knows what the look she gives him means – she wants him to spend that entire hour talking with his parents. He fights a groan, because at that exact moment the connection stabilizes and his parents' faces waver on the screen.

"Walter, darling."

To his surprise, his smile feels genuine rather than forced. "Mom, Dad."

"How are you, dear?"

He shrugs. "Fine. I read the weather report today – you guys are getting some pretty heavy rain."

His father nods, but Walter notices something that he's never noticed before. His mother's shoulders slump a little, her smile fades but it looks almost as if she's putting on a brave front, trying to look happy just so her son will think she is.

The realization startles him. How long has his mother pretended that what he gives her is good enough?

"And are y-you…um, how are you feeling, Mom?" It's not perfect, but practice has to start somewhere.

She looks up, surprised pleasure making her smile curl up further. "I'm fine, dear. A little tired today, but I expected that."

He nods, wondering if they're going to tiptoe around the elephant for the entirety of this conversation, then remembers – _what would Paige say?_

"Dad? How's your, uh, arthritis doing?"

"Worse on rainy days like today," his father smiles at him, like he never has before, like he knows that Walter is _trying_. "But we're due for some sunshine next week. It'll be better by then."

"I-I have some ointment I could make you," Walter offers without thinking. For a moment he's nervous, because this is him letting them place expectations on him, expectations he's likely to fail meeting, but the surprised gratitude on Sean's face is making that fear recede. "I….um, I can send it to you, it helps with inflamed joints. I've been trying to get Cabe to use it but he's stubborn, and – "

He trails off, but now Sean is smiling, wide and beaming, and Walter finds himself completely unprepared for how that look of fatherly affection makes him feel.

"I'd like that, son. Thank you."

Normal people would say you're welcome, but the words get stuck in Walter's throat and he nods.

Once again, the conversation is at a lull, when suddenly his mother blurts, "How's Sylvester doing?"

He feels stupid for not mentioning their son-in-law before this. "He's…um, he's fine. He took off work today. I think he was going to visit the pediatric ward. Megan liked it there."

It's the first anyone's said her name since the phone call began, but somehow Walter feels the edge of his shoulders relaxing. He feels relieved, like he can breathe again, like he had when he stood with Paige's hand in his, watching his sister join the stars she loved.

"She always did like children," Louise remembers with a fond smile.

"You know, Megan mentioned she met him through you…" Sean ventures. Walter can recognize the prompt for what it is.

"Yeah, I've known Sylvester since he was sixteen."

He pauses, unsure of how much to disclose. Megan knew the truth, but Sly, if he ever chooses to, needs to be the one to tell his in-laws.

"He, uh…well, none of us were really okay on our own. Sly more so, because of his anxiety. Megan was good for him," he finished quietly, his eyes staring at the desk.

"How did they meet?" his mother asks.

He smiles.

"We were on this mission, in Bosnia – "

"Bosnia?" his father echoes. "What with guns and the like?"

"Uh, yes. There were some pretty…um, intense moments, but we all made it back fine, of course. Anyway, before we left, I had to go bail Megan out of jail – "

" _What?_ " This time it's his mother who can't seem to believe her ears. Walter can't help but chuckle at the memory.

"Yeah. She got tired of being in the hospital, and begged me to take her to work with me for one day, and when we had to leave the country Sylvester stayed here with her."

"I see." His father nods. "So they had a nice, long chat did they?"

"I think so. They kept me in the dark about it for a while, but I know he got her something the next Valentine's Day."

"He seems like a very nice young man," Louise says.

"He is," Walter agrees, though the words don't scratch the surface of who Sylvester Dodd is, so he frowns a little and continues. "He's kind, and selfless, and he…he's the bravest person I've ever known."

"Brave?" Sean doesn't sound skeptical, but Walter knows he'll have to give details.

"Sly once jumped off a cruise ship for me. He's walked through a biohazard lab for me, he's kept Ralph safe through an earthquake, he's the one who got us all out of Bosnia alive. Yes. He's brave."

He says the words emphatically, because that's the way he feels about Sylvester, but there's no bite to his voice, and for the first time since he can remember his mother's smile is proud, not confused.

"Megan always had good judgement."

"Except when it came to bribing me into spending time with her," Walter mutters. Both his parents laugh.

"She always sounded rather exasperated, whenever she'd call and tell us you were buried in your work again," his father remembers. "But she knew you loved her, son."

No one's ever said those words to him; Paige has certainly implied it, but hearing them from his father makes his eyes sting. He clears his throat.

"She…she knew it wasn't a-always, um, easy. For me to show that."

Something in his parents' faces shifts, and his mother presses her fingertips to the screen. "Walter, darling…"

"It's still not easy," he blurts. Why is he doing this? He's just setting himself up for more pain later – neither of his parents are young anymore, they'll leave him too, soon. But the look his mother and father are giving him…

Maybe the pain to come is worth the joy having now.

"I, um. I know it wasn't…ideal. Me as a kid, I was…d-difficult and, uh. Stubborn."

"Walter – "

"I wasn't easy to understand," he says, his gaze once again boring a hole into his desk. "And you weren't easy for me to understand, either, but I didn't always try my hardest. I gave up. A-and I never realized how much that probably hurt you. So, um. I'm…I'm sorry."

There are tears running down his mother's face, and Sean puts his arm around her before clearing his throat, but his voice is still rough with emotions that even Walter can tell are good ones.

"Thank you, son."

It's a few minutes before either of them speak; Walter wonders if normal people would consider this a good place to say good-bye, but once his mother regains her composure she smiles at him again.

"Things look quiet there today."

"They are," he says, smiling. "Paige took Ralph to get some lunch, but he'll probably coax her into getting some ice cream too."

His parents let out genuine chuckles at that.

"He seemed like a good lad," Sean says. "Polite, if a bit…different. Reminded me of you."

Walter grins. "Dad, you and I both know that I was _anything_ but polite as a child."

It feels like he's basking in the sun, his insides warming at the sight of his father's shoulders shaking in laughter.

"No, you weren't that," he agrees. "But you're doing right by that boy. Megan explained to us about him – he's like you?"

The most accurate thing would be to say ' _yes, only better'_ , but Walter figures he can take this in baby steps. "Yes. He's…he's incredible. There are times when even I have to work to keep up with him."

"And what does his mother think of that?"

"Paige…she is, well…." He trails off, because trying to describe Paige Dineen is a lot like explaining what colors are to a blind person. There's no good starting point, no rhyme or reason to why she is every bit as extraordinary as the rest of the team. She just _is_. "You could say that Paige is her own kind of genius."

It's the truth – he wonders if he ought to tell Paige that more often.

His mother smiles, but he hears the phone ring and she excuses herself. Walter doesn't think anything of it until he catches the odd look on Sean's face.

"What?"

"You like her."

It's a statement, not a question, and Walter finds himself grappling with conflicting instincts. Part of him wants to hang up, walk away like those words never happened. Another part of him wants to say, ' _of course I like her, have you met the woman, what any sane person would_ not _like her'._ Yet another impulse is to scoff and explain it away, like he had Toby's childish stick figures.

It must be the day for surprises, because Walter simply nods, and says softly, "Yes."

Sean's astonishment is evident, and Walter can feel the heat creeping up his neck. He's about to make up an excuse and end the call when his father's question stops him.

"What're you going to do about it?"

He frowns. Do about it?

"You know…" Sean waves a hand noncommittally. "Tell her. Flowers. Ask her to dinner. That sort of thing."

Walter's pulse thuds. He knows what his father means – what normal men refer to as making a move.

The very thought makes his palms sweaty.

"I – uh…"

"Son."

He looks up, and sees no harshness, no judgment or frustration. Only concern, which he's only used to seeing from Paige.

"I know you handle these things differently. But I saw how Paige looked at you. She wants you to do something."

"There's…she's important to the team. And Ralph – "

"None of that matters." Sean catches Walter's confused expression, and explains. "I'm not saying it doesn't matter if things don't work out, son. I'm saying…you can't let fear stop you from being happy."

"If things end badly – "

"You won't know unless you try. Isn't experimentation part of science?" Sean says, almost teasingly, but Walter can also sense the sincerity behind the words. "You're both adults, and you've said she's a good mother. She'll do right by your company, and by her son. You need to trust her with that."

Walter pauses, frowning. He never really thought about it as an issue of trust before. Does Paige think he _doesn't_ trust her? The idea makes him uncomfortable, so much that he misses when Sean talks again.

"Sorry?"

"What's really keeping you?"

Walter opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, wondering how a man he barely knows can read him so well over grainy video feed. "I, um…"

Sean regards him, silently for a moment, then turns to presumably check that Louise is still on the phone. When he faces the screen again, he leans in conspiratorially. "When I first met your mother, I watched her across the room for nearly three months before I plucked up the courage to go say hello. And it was another six months after that before I asked to be my girl."

He's heard this story before; as a child he never had time for such sentiments, but Megan did and she loved the way their parents would look at each other while telling it. She said it was like they were young and falling in love for the first time all over again.

He'd scoffed, but now he sees the fond smile on Sean's face and realizes – _that's exactly the way he looks at Paige_. He knows, there have been enough team photos taken over the past two years for the evidence to accumulate, and Toby is always snapping candid shots of them when they're out and about. He's seen his face when it's directed towards Paige.

He's also seen his father's face when it's directed towards the woman he's loved for almost forty-five years.

And there's no difference.

None.

"I was terrified. Everyone is. But the happy people…they decide they don't care if they're afraid. They choose to love anyway."

Walter feels his eyes sting again, his sister's voice echoing in his mind.

 _Don't be afraid to love._

"Son?"

He looks up to see his father, concerned,

"You all right?"

He nods. "Yeah, I just – I…I'm trying not to be afraid."

Sean understands immediately, and he smiles sadly. "Harder than it looks, I know."

Walter chokes out a laugh. "Yeah."

There's a slight pause, then his father says, "Well, I'll…I'll let you go." He hesitates. "You…can you call again? Soon?"

To his immense surprise, Walter finds himself looking forward to it. "Sure. Tell, uh. Tell Mom I said bye."

"I will."

He does some sort of awkward wave, and ends the call before he leans back in his chair, stares up at the grungy ceiling.

 _Don't be afraid to love._

Until now he's thought of those words as something of a farewell, of his sister assuring him, even from beyond the grave that he would manage to be all right without her someday.

But now…now he understands. It's a challenge, a mantra, a creed to live by.

He's seen people who are afraid to love. Happy's spent her whole life resisting any kind of emotional attachment, convinced that they would all leave her at some point. Sylvester fell for a girl with a terminal illness. Toby's afraid of letting himself be happy because he's convinced he doesn't deserve it.

All of them, this rag-tag band of misfit nerds…they're all afraid to love.

But they've _chosen_ to love anyway.

It doesn't take a genius to see that the risk was worth it to them, even to Sly. That kind of joy, to them, is worth risking everything, even themselves.

Logically, that presents one question: is Paige worth it?

He snorts.

That's probably the dumbest question he's ever asked himself.

He hears car doors sound outside, and suddenly he feels so nervous he honestly thinks he might be sick. But he fights the urge to flee the room, instead standing up to greet Ralph as he comes in with a plastic bag full of food, and a half-eaten ice cream cone.

He smiles, knowing the boy must have pulled out all the stops to get his mother to let him eat ice cream before lunch, and when he makes eye contact with Paige she just smiles and rolls her eyes, and his heart feels like it's about to burst from how much he feels for this woman.

His father's voice echoes in his head: _what're you going to do about it?_

Part of him wants to grab her now, take her upstairs to avoid scarring Ralph, sweep her off her feet, kiss her breathless and swear to never let her go again. But he thinks of the little smiles Happy shoots Toby's way, of all the times the mechanic has needed space and Toby's given it to her, without leaving her on her own.

He knows, somehow, that a wild, passionate declaration will mean something, but it won't mean as much as if he does this slowly. Day by day, making a conscious effort to love her like she deserves – it's terrifying, more than any bomb he's ever disarmed, more than any building he's jumped off of.

But she's worth it.


End file.
